


The Devil in Me Can See the Devil in You

by mothmanaintshit



Series: Strange Magic [6]
Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternative Universe - Human, Alternative Universe - Human/Goblin/Fairy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Fighting, Goblins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-05-04 21:38:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5349437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mothmanaintshit/pseuds/mothmanaintshit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I'll write an actual summary for this story in the morning. It's nearly 3 am here, I'm sleepy and I've been staring at the chapter for too long so, here -throws it out into the void- enjoy. please let me know what you all think of this as well, i'd love to hear your thoughts.</p>
    </blockquote>





	The Devil in Me Can See the Devil in You

**Author's Note:**

> I'll write an actual summary for this story in the morning. It's nearly 3 am here, I'm sleepy and I've been staring at the chapter for too long so, here -throws it out into the void- enjoy. please let me know what you all think of this as well, i'd love to hear your thoughts.

Marianne Ròsach-Fields favorite thing to do as the sun set was to play her violin in Central Park. The kids that were still out and about with their parents would dance around her, sometimes she would dance with them, coin were tossed into her open case – even though she didn’t need the money – Central Park was always full of life, but it always seemed more lively to Marianne near nightfall. Couples, both young and old, roamed about the park, sitting on benches, taking lip-smacking selfie’s, asking her to play certain songs. She honestly loved it – romance was her weakness, always has been and she feared it always would be. If she could find a man that could sing to her tunes, that would be her demise.

But fate was not as kind to her as it was the couples around, her romances never seemed to leave home. First dates were where they always ended. Right after the good-bye at the apartment building door, the men seemed to disappear right off the face of the earth; cellphones disconnected, apartments emptied – she couldn’t wrap her head around it. Her sister assured her that the men she went out with just weren’t ‘the one’, that she wasn’t cursed or unlovable.

Dawn, her biologically sister, told her over the phone once after finding out her most recent date had disappeared like the others, “You’re just different, Marianne.”

And  _different_  she was.

It was obvious just from the way she stood that she was not like others. Where her biological sister – who she had only met once in person – was bold and proud, her essence glittered in the sun and attracted all eyes; Marianne blended and meshed with everyone else. No double-takes, no phone numbers written on her paper cup when she ordered at Starbucks, no anonymous love-letter on Valentine’s day or secret admirers. It seemed only when she had her violin in hand did the world take notice to her presence. It wasn’t like she minded, love wasn’t her first priority – even if it was her weakness – and it never would be. Right now it was just living – and gods be  _damned_  if she wouldn’t do just that. Saving lives in her hospital was rewarding in itself and playing the violin for hours until the park was cleared was living perfectly for herself; she couldn’t make this much noise in her apartment without getting another warning for an eviction notice. She couldn’t just shut her eyes and let the music consume her like she did when she was out here – her feet carrying her around, hopping from bench to bench, spinning around light poles and from jumping from the railings of the bridges with grace. As a child, she loved balancing on objects – she was very clumsy as a child – but she noticed how when she wasn’t trying, she wasn’t clumsy at all. She wasn’t overthinking every foot step like she had before, just letting the wind carry her.

And tonight seemed to be one of those nights.

It was All Hallows’ Eve and no one was in the mood to stick around for a measly performance when there were candy bars to collect! She couldn’t blame them, if it wasn’t for the need to be herself for a while, she’d be putting on a mask and saying she was a high school student all over again. She needed to just work out some steam, the hospital had been stressful today and she just wanted to pour her emotions out. She walked around the park, finding the bridge that was usually bristling with life vacant as a gas station in the middle of a desert. Marianne sat down on a bench, adjusting the skirt of her pirate wench costume as she unhooked the violin case. She pulling out the amp, clipping it to the side of her belt as she stood back up. She pulled out her violin next, looking down at the amp as she flicked the small switch near the bottom before plucking a string.

Marianne smiled as she picked up the bow, shutting the case once again. She walked around in a slow circle as she thought of what to play, her bow idly moving against the strings until the music flowed out.  _The Pretender_  by  _Foo Fighters_  buzzed throughout the small area, her body moving to the fast beat.

“ _Hmmm—Keep you in the dark, and so it all began… Hmm..._ ” Marianne looked around as she hummed, making sure no one was in sight as she continued to sing. Dawn had told her her voice wasn’t angelic, more cringe worthy than anything – her voice wasn’t one people would stop to listen to, unlike Dawn’s, so she usually kept the singing to a bare minimum – or never; and since no one was around, this would be part of that bare minimum. Marianne’s eyes lit up at she looked back at the bridge, her voice raising as the park lights bursts to life around her – the higher her voice went, the more the lights seemed shine.

“ _The secrets that you keep are ever ready—Are you ready?_ ” Marianne to the bridge, lifting herself off the ground to land perfectly on the flat railing, her eyes shut as she continued to sing. Her arm moved efficiently, the amp magnifying the sound even louder than she was use to, only making her slowly forming grin grow. It was always too noisy in the park to hear her music this clearly. Some child singing along, sports teams practicing, birds chirping; she loved being able to hear only herself tonight.

“ _I'm finished making sense! Done pleading ignorance! That whole defense—_ ”

Marianne’s amp screeched throughout the area, the park lights flickering before the amp screamed, electricity buzzing through her as she tried to cover her ears. Marianne’s face contorted into a cringe, her ears buzzing from irritating noise. She removed the violin from under her chin, moving the bow in the same hand before cocking her hip to the side to flick the amp on and off again.

“Come on.” Marianne huffed, shoulders slumping in dejection as the amp made it’s last, dying noise before shutting off once again. Marianne furrowed her brows in confusion. She had charged the amp all day, it hadn’t even been five minutes and the damned thing died?

“Never buying from Ebay again...”

Marianne flicked the amp a few times, more feedback static sounding from the small speaker before a whisper of a name.

_—òsa… Fields… We… fo—... n… you…_

Marianne tilted her head at the amp – another wave of electricity shot down her back – before shaking her head, ignoring the muffled whispers coming from the amp. It could have picked up on signals in the area – it’s done it a couple times before. Turning to jump off of the bridge, Marianne stopped short, noticing a lone figure standing at the end of the bridge. His head was ducked down behind a black and red fedora, blonde curls sticking out from under. He had a long black trench coat hung loosely over his shoulders, his arms not in the slot but instead shoved in his pants pockets. A dark, dull red velvet vest hung open over a black button down shirt, a black and white stripped tie hung loosely around his collar. A chain hung out from the lower vest pocket, whatever was hooked onto it hidden by the trench coat, while a green pocket square stuck up from the breast pocket on the vest. Marianne couldn’t tell if this was a costume or actual work attire, but either way something was off.

“Um… Hello?” Marianne’s took a sharp breath as the lights flickered around her once again; a piercing, eerie wail sounded around them before the lights died completely, the bridge becoming nearly pitch black save for the light the moon gave off. Marianne looked back at the figure, a chill running down her spin as they were suddenly gone. She looked to the other side of the bridge, her frown deepening as the side was completely casts in shadows. She didn’t want to be here but she couldn’t bring herself to move, fear she had never felt before kept her body in place. She took a few breathes, her eyes moving from place to place – every shadow seemed to move; Where the hell were the shadows coming from? The shadows were suddenly everywhere, footsteps all around her – the air, the water, the bricks. Growling sounded around her, territorial, primal,  _evil_ —

_Don’t panic, don’t panic, don’t panic—_

The piercing and eerie wail that sounded before screeched, louder and much closer than the last time. Marianne jumped off of the railing of the bridge and sprinted away, not a care in the world that she left her violin case on the bench. Her only thought was to get away from the park—Marianne stopped cold in her tracks, body jolting from side to side, eyes in a panic frenzy as she looked around herself. She had no idea where she was, she’d never seen this part of Central Park before, at least not at night. The violin was pulling from her grasp, tossed aside and shattered against a nearby tree. Marianne twirled around, meeting face to face with the mysterious man from before. The shadows seemed to dance around them, faceless but emanated malice and contempt towards her. The man’s eyes were a dazzling shade of emerald, his cream skin glowing even though they stood in utter darkness. His smile was venomous, teeth as sharp as the ears the pointed out from the fedora.

“We’ve been looking for you, buttercup.” 

_Start panicking!_

Before Marianne could speak, she was pulled backward – a shriek falling from her lips as she fell off a ledge and landed on top of a pile of sharp rocks. She felt them cut against her side, but she didn’t care, she needed to run—get away while she still had the chance. She took off once more, eyes keenly aware of the fact she was no longer in utter darkness; She was light, and she was guiding her own way through the endless paths between the trees. Marianne ignored the stinging from her side; from her slowly blurred vision, she knew whatever adrenaline she had gotten from the sudden attack was fading quickly, all the aches and pains and fatigue pushing through.

She slowed down when she entered another part of the park, and placed her hand on a tree as she caught her breath, her other hand moving to her side and feeling the wound. She knew her clothes were tattered, the pirate skirt was torn from the terrain, the corset she was wearing was somewhere behind her – probably stuck to the rocks she fell on – she could feel a small rock protruding from her side. She couldn’t see clear enough, whatever light she was emanating was dying quickly with her vision. Marianne moved against the tree and leaned her back on it, trying to catch her breath. She couldn’t support herself anymore, the tree even seemed to be giving into her weight and bending backward until she was laying on the ground.

“ _Wake up_.” Marianne was suddenly in someone’s arms, pulling flush against their chest. Their arms were wrapped around Marianne – if she was in her right state of mind, she would have thought whoever was holding her was being protective, hiding her away, keeping her safe from—

No… This… This was him, the guy chasing her.

_Fight, Marianne… Fight._

“Le… Let go…” Marianne lazily struggled against him, her head bobbing from side to side. “L—Let… go… You… You can’t—”

“ _Hey_!” Crystal blue eyes glared down at her in the darkness –  _not_  emerald green—, Scottish accent, not southern. Her breathing slowed as the world started to shift around them. She could make out some of his features – auburn hair, sharp cheekbones, scarred lips, gray skin – before he spoke again. “Ah said:  _Wake. **Up**_.  _Marianne._ ”

Marianne shot up in bed, a hand coming up around her neck as she gasped for breath. Her eyes frantically searched the on-call room, looking at every nook and cranny that seemed darker than usual and making sure no shadows were moving. Her entire body felt worn out and tired, sweat falling from brow and breathing coming out in raging gapes as if she had been running; But she hadn’t. It was just a dream.

A very life like dream, but a dream non-the-less.

Her pager sounded under the pillow behind her – three irritatingly loud dings – calling for her. Marianne pulling her legs to her as she pulled out her pager, rubbing her eye with the other hand before whipping some sweat from her brow. She stared bitterly down at the name that flashed across the screen: Dr. Knight.

She did not get along with this man in the slightest, and she never will. He tried to pull a  _Grey’s Anatomy_  like scenario her first day at the hospital eight years ago; she knew better than to get involved with an attending. That was the smartest move she made, Dr. Knight apparently had a different woman in every wing of the hospital – not her kind of man, or anyone’s really; her best friend, Stuff, hated Dr. Knight even more than herself. But, as much as she loathed Dr. Knight, he was an amazing Plastic Surgeon. He’s helped thousands of burn victims, recreated a face from nearly nothing, he was an amazing doctor. Just not an amazing person. Marianne groaned, silencing her pager before tossing it aside. She caught her head in her hands and leaned her elbows on her thighs. Marianne’s ears twitched when she heard the springs in the bed above her groan. She picked her head up and let out a relieved sigh when she saw the bulge in the mattress; someone was sleeping above her. Marianne shook her head again, letting out a silent, humorless laugh at her sudden fear.

“That dream  _really_  shook you up, Marianne...” She mumbled to herself, moving a hand to the back of her neck. Her fingers lightly raked over her skin as her eyes focused on the mattress above her again. A low growl – one she was certain was not human – and a silent whisper sounded above her; the growl sounding all too much like the ones coming from the shadows in her dreams and the whisper had an accent… Marianne rolled her eyes, waving her hand in a dismissive gesture as she picked her pager up with the other.

 _No_ , the man was just a dream, a figment of her subconscious imagination. The guy may have existed – Gods know she’s been binge watching too much Doctor Who in her spare time – and it wasn’t like a Scottish accent was completely uncommon. There were some cousins on her adoptive parent’s side that were Scottish; Nothing was going on that she couldn’t explain.

Marianne took one last breath before pushed herself out of the bed and, just for her own piece of mind, turned to look on the top bunk. A chill passed by Marianne, electricity shooting down her spine once more when her eyes fell on the empty space of the bunk. Marianne leaned to the side, seeing the bulge from the mattress completely gone. Marianne tilted her head and slowly stood back up, her eyes on the bottom bunk as her brows knitted back together in confusion. The whole room seemed to swim around her, shadows shifting and grays changing. The room seemed to get cooler the longer she stared at the bunk beds.

“ _Don’t stare_.”

Marianne screamed, whirling around and punching at air. Her heartbeat hammered in her ears, her breath moving with the rise and fall of her shoulders. Her whirled around again, eyes scanning all corners of the room when—

“What the hell was that?” The lights suddenly turned on, causing Marianne to blink from the sudden brightness before looking over towards the door. Steph, or Stuff as she insisted friends call her, stood looking wide-eyed at Marianne. Steph held a clean pair of scrubs in one arm, a chart in the other.

“N—Nothing, sorry! I—I—I was just—”

“You’re bleeding.” If it was even possible, Steph’s eyes grew wider, her gruff voice mixed with worry, shock and fear; a side of Steph she’d never seen before. Marianne furrowed her brows and looked down at herself. On her side, the side she had fallen on in her dream, the side that was bleeding in her dream, was bleeding  _now_  – when she  _wasn’t_  dreaming. Marianne’s hand shakily went to the patch of blood, her fingers pressing lightly against the fabric, it was dry, and when she pressed even harder, she didn’t feel any pain. Steph moved into the room and shut the door behind her, motioning for Marianne to take her scrub shirt off. She did just that, pulling it off and looking down at her undershirt to see blood was even there. 

“This was  _nothing_?” Steph asked once Marianne was down to her bra, both staring at a recent gash wound – scabbed over, healing correctly, light redness around the wound from irritation. “There isn’t even an open wound. Where did all that blood come from?”

Marianne’s already strained expression was becoming frantic. How could she not remember sustaining a wound like this?

“The, uh,  _blood_ , must have come from my previous patient.” Marianne turned to meet Steph’s gaze and offered her friend a smile. “I must’a forgotten to change! I don’t remember the last time I actually slept—” Both the women’s pages suddenly, and Steph instantly cursed as she pulled out her pager.

“I forgot—” Steph picked up the chart from where she threw it on one of the nearby beds. “New patient. Chief wants you to watch over him tonight, but you…” Steph quickly went silent, looking down at Marianne’s wound.

“But you go home… I’ll take him. You’ve been on the clock for the past sixty-five hours.” Steph held out the pair of scrubs she was carrying, and Marianne greedily took them with a groan.

“Has it really been that long?” Marianne mumbled, cocking her hip to the side as she contorted her body to look at how far the wound had gone around her back.

“I can take a closer look, if you want.” Steph offered, shrugging a shoulder.

“No, no. I’s fine.” Marianne waved her off, eyeing the wound. It looked, at most, three days old; and three days ago was her off day, where she laid in bed with an XL-Pizza from the shop below her apartment and binge watched Netflix.

This made no sense.

“I’ll clean it again when I get home.” Marianne assured Steph, pulling the scrub top over her head. “Thanks for the extra scrubs.”

“No problem.” Steph said, her voice light and relax but eyes worriedly fixed on Marianne. “Text me when you get home, just so I know you got there safely.”

Marianne offered her friend a smile as she pushed loose strands of hair away from her face. “Will do. Thank you again.” 


End file.
